Out of the Frying Pan
by PennyCent
Summary: The plan is good. Actually, Murdock isn't sure if the plan is good, because he's not sure what the plan is. All he knows is that the guys are counting on him. If he could only figure out what he is supposed to do, then they might just pull this off.
1. Chapter 1 Forgetful Times

**Ok. So, this was my first attempt at Fanfic, and I've since gone back and started to give it a little polish...just to get rid of a few of the glaring errors I noticed later. I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the A-team, but I wish I did.**

**Chapter One: Out of the Frying Pan**

The sharp ring of a phone cutting through his boredom, Murdock sprang to his feet.

How long had it been since their last mission? Three months? Four? With a mad grin, he scrambled over his bed and sprinted forward. It felt good to let loose with one long howl into the phone. The wait afterwards, during the long span of silence, didn't feel quite as nice though.

Ok, maybe the caller didn't speak beagle, or maybe they were unfamiliar with the dialect.

He nervously adjusted his black baseball cap, deciding to fall back to more standard greeting. "Hullo?"

"_Murdock, is that you?_"

"Faceman! O' course it's me. Who else would be answerin' my phone? It was the accent that got you, wasn't it? I just can't shake that hint of Irish Wolfhound."

"_What? Um…yeah, sure Murdock._" Face paused, a quiet sigh sounding over the line. "_Geez, I think my ear is bleeding. How about we not answer the phone like that anymore, huh, buddy? Listen..."_ The tone changed slightly, letting Murdock know they were back to business as usual._ "Hannibal has a new mission lined up for us. I'm on my way to spring you from the VA right now. I'm thinking of trying that allergy con again. Can you start sneezing right now?_"

"Sure, o' facial one, I'm all over it. See you on the flip side." Murdock slammed down the receiver, cutting off the conversation before the conman had time to ask about the red-headed nurse he had eyed during his last visit. She was way too sweet and naïve to have Faceman unleashed on her.

Turning back toward his comic book laden bed, Murdock pondered the finer aspects of the sneeze.

"A-chu?" That sounded too weak. He needed it to have more oomph, but it had to sound distinct as well. "Ahhh-chooo!" That was better, but not quite perfection.

He opened his mouth, found his Zen sneezing center, braced himself and...

* * *

><p>"<em>…Can you…read…me?…Over.<em>"

Murdock's head pounded. He took in a deep breath tasting of silt and gunpowder. Could he open his eyes? Did he _want_ to open his eyes? Tentatively, he moved his hands and felt soft flakes of dirt crumble beneath his fingertips. An explosion nearby sent a scattering of dirt and rock raining down. Slowly, he opened his eyes and raised his head.

It was daytime, cloudy but warm with a cool breeze blowing in. He was in the middle of some sort of compound. To the right, a small shed cracked and sizzled as flames danced insided it. A random assortment of rusted farm and construction equipment lay all around, and an empty watchtower loomed over several concrete buildings. Razor wire fences stood haphazardly erected around the area. All in all, it wasn't a place Murdock wanted to buy a time share for.

_Zing, zing, zing._ He cringed as bullets struck the ground in front of him. Where the heck were the shooters at? Better yet, who was shooting at him?

Static sounded. "_Captain? Can you read me? Over_."

Hannibal! He scanned around desperately for the radio and spotted it about ten feet away. Next to it, his black cap sat dejectedly staring back at him.

"Don't worry fellas, I'm coming for you!" Murdock shouted. He hated to see his ball cap looking so alone and scared. "Be brave little Muchachos!"

Quickly, he crawled forward, as a few more bullets zoomed by, all narrow misses. As soon as he had the items in hand, he sprang to a crouch and ran for cover. Diving behind a rusted bulldozer, he curled up as another explosion shook the ground. A mad rush of adrenaline had aided his flight, but now that he was still again, dizziness took over.

Panting frantically, he pawed at the radio. "Colonel? It's me, Murdock. Colonel? What's happening? One minute I'm in the VA achoo-achooing and the next minute everything is boom-booming."

He paused, listening to the radio's static.

"_Murdock? Is that you, Murdock? Listen, I'm only getting static on my end. Something's wrong with these blasted radios that Face scammed. I think he's losing his touch. I'm going to assume you're in position, because there's no going back now anyways. Remember, this all depends on you. Timing is everything. Over_."

Murdock sat staring at the radio. Ok, this was bad, very bad. Turning it over, he studied the melted backing. Apparently he hadn't been the only thing damaged recently.

He reached up and tenderly touched the back of his skull. Tears welled in his eyes as the throbbing brought an uncomfortable pressure to his noggin. There was a large knot on the back of his head and a gash that was maybe an inch or two long. It wasn't deep, but head wounds had a tendency to bleed an awful lot, and he didn't like how wet and sticky his hair already felt. Biting his lip, he let his hand slowly explore the rest of his cranium. He found another large and painful bump above his right eye. Most likely he had taken a blow to the back of the head and had fallen forward and hit the ground with his face. No wonder his head felt like it had been through a washing machine.

Then, he noticed the tee shirt he was wearing. It was dark blue with a picture of a hand glider. He stared at it a moment. When did he get it? It was awesome. He loved it, but he'd never seen it before.

_Focus Muchacho, you have to figure out what's happening. The guys are depending on you._

Maybe he was carrying something with him that would give him a clue about this mission. He doubted it, but it was worth a try. In the depths of his brown leather jacket pocket he found a cloth handkerchief. It had the initials K. V. L. embroidered in light pink.

"Now, who do you think this belongs to?" Murdock asked, looking questioningly at his cap, but it didn't seem to know either.

Murdock shrugged, folded the handkerchief up and then pressed it to the back of his head. He gave a hissed breath at the new wave of pain. Quickly, before he lost his nerve, he snatched up his cap and placed it snuggly on his head. Satisfied that the handkerchief was securely in place, he wiped his bloody hand on his pants.

"That," he said, eyes focused upward on the brim of his cap, "was not much fun my friend, but I thank you for your services and I promise to have you dry cleaned when this is all over."

As he leaned back against the bulldozer, he let his hands fall to his sides. His right wrist brushed passed a lump beneath his jacket. After digging around he found, tucked in the waist of his khakis, a single stick of dynamite. He pulled it out and examined it. The fuse was short...too short.

Another explosion sounded somewhere off to the north of the compound, but Murdock ignored it. He sat, biting his lip, staring at the dynamite, wondering what the hell to do next.


	2. Chapter 2 Great Balls of Fire

**Chapter 2: Great Balls of Fire**

In deep concentration, Murdock squeezed his eyes shut. "Think like Hannibal, think like Hannibal, why can't I think like Hannibal?" He opened his eyes and sighed.

Halfheartedly, he picked up a short, thick stick of wood. Putting it to his mouth, he clenched it in his teeth, and gave a toothy grin. "I love it when a plan comes together." He paused, waiting for clarity to strike, but nothing came. "Can anyone tell me what the bloody plan is?" He hollered, peeking around the edge of the bulldozer.

The rapid ping of bullets ricocheting off metal was the only reply. Quickly, he ducked back. After taking the stick from his mouth, and spitting out the bits of loose bark, Murdock frowned.

"How can Hannibal smoke these things? They taste horrible." He tossed it aside and glanced back down at his dynamite. "Now what?"

As if on cue, the deep rumbling of an engine started. As the engine revved, the sound of toppling bricks added to the chaos. Plumes of white dust rose from behind a building.

Suddenly a tennis ball flew out from amongst the growing dust cloud. It soared high above, its yellowish green shade a bright dot of color against the grey sky. Murdock smiled. This was interesting. There was something so mesmerizing about that little splotch tumbling through the air. Then, it exploded.

The explosion wasn't overly grandiose. It was a small crackling of colors, red and green, that burst outward and cast the broken shell of the tennis ball into a fluttering downward spiral.

"See that?" Murdock said, glancing at the stick of dynamite still in his hand. "Firework filled tennis balls! That has gotta be part of the plan. But…" He leaned back, tapping the knuckle of his right index finger on his chin. "Since those little spitballs don't have enough spunk to do any real damage, this must be a diversion. A diversion for what? For me to do something that involves a much bigger boom?"

A rusted red Ford pickup roared into view. Its bed was lined with makeshift tennis ball launchers, but these weren't any ordinary launchers. The intricacy of the machines was mind boggling. Fuses, protruding from the balls, were lined up perfectly so that, just before launch, a small blowtorch would light them. The arsenal of balls sat in their cradles, ready to fly into the great beyond and explode.

Massive slabs of metal had been welded to the cab, making a cozy and bulletproof enclosure for the driver. Through the protective screens of thick wire over the windshield, Murdock could just make out the dark figure clad in copious amounts of gold.

"BA!" Murdock waved, though he doubted the big guy would notice him.

In fact, no one seemed to notice him anymore. All the gunfire was now being directed at the pickup that drove in an aimless pattern around the compound.

"…Crazy man, is that you?"

Murdock gave a yelp of excitement and scooped up his radio. "BA, it's me! I think my radio is on the fritz, and I hit my head and I don't know the plan. BA, I could use a hand here. BA?"

"…Fool, your radio isn't working. All I'm getting is static. Stop jibber-jabbering and get moving. You're suppose ta be on the other side of the compound." BA paused, his voice drifting into a growl. "Hannibal, can ya help me out here? He's still over here."

Frozen in place, Murdock held his breath. _Oh please, oh please let them give me some hint about what I'm supposed to be doing._

"…Murdock." Hannibal let the name drag out, using his best fatherly tone. "Face is counting on us to keep him from taking a very long dirt nap. Now, let's just stick to the plan, ok? Why don't you get yourself over to the south end of the compound and make sure that train doesn't leave, alrighty?"

"Make sure the train doesn't leave?" Murdock mumured to himself and then glanced down at the stick of dynamite and grinned. "Yeah, I can do that! Me and old Sticky here can do that easy!"

He tucked the dynamite into the waistband of his pants and rose to his feet. His head protested the movement with a new wave of throbbing pain, but it didn't matter. Face was in danger, and he had a train to stop. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure why he had to stop the train, but he had to. Maybe Face was on it. Yeah, that sounded reasonable.

"…Hey fool." BA's voice boomed over the radio. "You got thirty seconds to move out. Don't say I didn't warn ya."

Surprised by the sudden announcement, Murdock fumbled with the radio. Slipping through his fingers, it fell to the ground with a dull thud. Without thinking, he bent down and grabbed it. That was a mistake. Dizziness washed over him. Lurching forward, he took hold of the bulldozer and barely managed to keep on his feet. A few seconds passed and he felt his balance returning.

Taking in slow, deep breaths, he glanced toward BA. The truck had stopped. Bullets ricocheted off the metal clad cab. Murdock felt a twinge of panic as he wondered if the big guy had taken a hunk of lead of his own. Then, the arsenal of ball launchers started to warm up, and the figure inside the truck jostled around, angling his bulky frame toward the truck's bed as he fiddled with some sort of remote control. He was fine. Murdock breathed a sigh of relief.

"…Fool," It was hard to tell through the radio's static, but BA's voice seemed softer than before. "You had better be far from here now."

And then the tennis balls began to fly. There wasn't time to think. They may have seemed like helpless explosives up in the air, but on the ground, they were disorientating flashes of color and sound that singed pant legs and arm hair without mercy.

Murdock yelped as a burst of red sparks erupted in front of him. He wasn't hurt, but it certainly scared the living daylights out of him. Before he knew it, he was running. The overall mission plan was still a mystery and he wasn't sure which direction he was heading in, but he was sure of one thing. With a stick of dynamite tucked in his pants, he had to get the hell away from all those exploding tennis balls.


	3. Chapter 3 Surgeon General's Warning

**Chapter 3: Surgeon General's Warning**

Murdock ran until he was wheezing for breath, and even then he only stopped to get his bearings. Making a hasty directional decision, he forced his body back into motion. With nothing more to guide him than his internal compass, he prayed he was heading south.

All hell had broken loose on BA's side of the compound. Angry shouts punctuated the din of gunfire and exploding tennis balls. Murdock tried to tune out the sounds. He tried not to worry about the big guy, but it was hard.

He almost didn't notice the static streaming from the radio. "…_I hope everyone is in position._" Stretching his lean body out in a full run, Murdock pressed the walkie-talkie to his ear. "_Let's get started_." Hannibal paused, letting his amused chuckle carry over the radio. "_This will be a piece of cake, boys_."

Murdock groaned. _Why did he have to say that? It never ends well when he says that phrase. _He was sure that somewhere in the compound BA was cringing at the words as well.

But he couldn't pause to reflect. There wasn't time. Dread knotted his stomach. He had to keep moving. His head throbbed with each stride, but he couldn't stop.

The team was counting on him. His legs pumped wildly as he pushed forward, blindly careening toward…What exactly? Turning a corner, he came to a sudden and painful halt.

The throbbing in his head transformed into one sharp, unforgiving pain. Sprawled out on his back, he gave a cough. Nothing besides his head seemed damaged. He smiled weakly. That sounded like the story of his life.

"Wha?" He sat up, quicker than he should have, and immediately regretted it.

The ground seemed to spin like some horrible carnival ride. Murdock's thoughts strayed. _Carnivals always had clowns. No, that didn't seem to fit. The circus always had clowns, right?_

Cradling his wounded head in his hands, he groaned. "I hate clowns."

Slowly glancing up, he was shocked to find a small, dark haired man on his hands and knees not more than ten feet away. With a lit cigarette dangling from his open mouth, the fellow seemed a touch stunned to see Murdock, or maybe the clown comment had thrown him for a loop.

The man wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve. "¿Quién son usted?"

Ok, that was a fair question, and Murdock would've answered but he noticed the man's gaze shifting to the ground between them.

"Pretty," Murdock murmured as he stared at the Smith & Wesson 439, "but I think this is going to end badly for one of us."

The man dove forward, but, just as quickly, Murdock was on the move. Sure the other man might have been more agile, younger and had far less head trauma, but Murdock had one thing going for him. He had a plan. Maybe it wasn't a good one, but it was something.

Right hand clawing at the pistol, the man gave a triumphant laugh, but before he could bring the weapon up for the shot, Murdock's fist connected solidly with his face. With a jerk, the man flopped to the ground, his hand loosely resting on the gun.

Murdock sighed. "It's like clockwork. Every time they go for the gun and never see the punch coming." He scooped up the pistol and paused.

Still resting on the unconscious man's lips, the cigarette trembled slightly.

"How the hell did he keep from dropping that?" Murdock asked, reaching over and picking it up. He was about to toss it aside but instead tucked it between his lips. "Mind if I borrow this, my dear chap? Of course you don't!"

It took a few seconds for him to locate the radio and stash it neatly into his jacket pocket. His head was still spinning, but he pushed past the discomfort and hauled himself up on to wobbly legs. Slowly, he crept forward. If he had any luck left on his side, then the train would be close. Peering around a stack of crates, he grinned.

It certainly wasn't as elegant as Murdock had imagined it. Of course, with such a hodgepodge compound, he really wasn't sure why he had expected much.

The locomotive sat about fifty yards from his location. It was an outdated steam engine that appeared as if it had been used well beyond its years. He counted six boxcars. Men were loading crates into the last car, their faces sweaty and strained. Soldiers in green uniforms stood guard, with assault rifles at the ready.

It was the most beautiful train he had ever seen. Ok, that was a lie, but it was the most heavily guarded train he had ever seen. He tucked his pistol in the waistband of his pants and pulled out the stick of dynamite. This was going to require stealth, cat-like reflexes, some luck and…

A stream of color blazed off the top of a building about a hundred yards away from the last boxcar. For a split second, Murdock swore he saw a white haired figure zooming down a zip line away from the explosion.

A few of the guards dropped their weapons and fled, but most charged forward, shooting aimlessly in the direction of the outburst.

Seeing his opportunity, Murdock made his way to the train. He was in luck. If he blew up the train soon, no one would be around to be killed in the blast. Well, no one except him.

He crouched next to the locomotive. His head protested as he leaned down to set the dynamite on the tracks below the steam engine. That irritable throbbing had started back up again and his eyeballs felt ready to pop out of their sockets.

"Ok, Muchacho, me and you have been through some good times together." He gave the dynamite a gentle pat. "But this is your destiny, and I-I…will never forget you. Just try not to take me out with you, ok? And for your last request," Murdock pulled the cigarette from his mouth, "would you care for a smoke?"

Then, he pressed the cigarette to the fuse.


	4. Chapter 4 All Out of Love

**Chapter Four: All out of Love**

The fuse sparked to life quicker than Murdock had expected. Sneakers sliding on loose soil, he lurched into a frantic run. _Not going to make it…_ He leaned forward, bracing for the impact. If he could just reach the crates, if he could find a little cover, then maybe he'd survive.

It was asking the impossible. He knew it. He prepared himself for pain, for maiming. The explosion was going to happen at any moment, and yet…it didn't.

Ducking behind crates, he glanced back at the train. It sat, tranquilly basking in the warm breeze. Nothing moved.

"That can't be good," he murmured, not daring to take his eyes off the site of potential destruction. He squinted hard, trying to see the stick of dynamite but it was useless. There was no way he could tell if the fuse went out from so far away.

"_Murdock?_" Hannibal's voice drifted from the radio in his jacket pocket. "_Any time now would be great._"

Murdock clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. "Come on," he urged, "just go kablooey, please, please, please!"

He bit his lip. How long could he wait? What if each second put Face further in danger? He rose slightly from his crouched position. Even by his standards, heading back to the train sounded crazy. It could blow at any moment. He took a step forward. Self-preservation gnawed at him.

Closing his eyes, he steeled himself to his final decision. "I've got to help Faceman." He took another step and then the explosion came.

Knocked backwards, Murdock flinched at the wave of heat. Chunks of metal landed around him, but he remained relatively unharmed. At least he was pretty sure he wasn't damaged. His adrenaline was pumping so hard, it was difficult to feel much of anything.

He sat on his rear, gaping at the flaming train. The locomotive looked fairly intact, but the coal bunker had caught fire, along with the first boxcar.

He shook his head. "I sure hope this was part of the plan."

The door to the third boxcar back slid open and five heavily armed soldiers emerged. Their faces held an odd mixture of confusion and rage. After assessing the damage, they spread out and began an intense search. Murdock watched, knowing he should run, but he couldn't, not until he saw if Face was alright.

"Come on Faceman," he whispered as he maneuvered himself back behind the crates. "You gotta be ok."

He kept his vigil until the men closed in on his position. He squatted down out of sight and pulled out his pistol, but he wasn't sure if it would do much against multiple assault rifles.

"Pensé que vi algo aquí." The voice was close.

Murdock drew in a breath. This was it. He checked his ammo. Three rounds against five men? Well, he'd been in worse situations, but he couldn't think of any at the moment. It didn't help that the song "All out of Love" kept playing in his head.

"¿Usted oye alguien el cantar?" The man stopped in front of the crates. Murdock could just barely see the top of his head.

"Si." Another voice answered. "Air Supply?"

_Oh hell_. How long had he been singing? Murdock clamped a hand over his mouth. Normally he had a little more control over his melodic tendencies.

One of the men started to laugh, but the sound was cut short as the roar of an engine drowned it out. Shouting and gunfire erupted, all of it moving away from Murdock. He peeked around the edge of the crate.

BA sped his truck up beside the train, slammed on the brakes and spun to a halt. Instantly, Face dashed from the nearest boxcar and jumped into the passenger seat. Murdock had to stop himself from giving a loud cheer. He made due with a fit of quiet laughter, but that quickly died away as the truck took off northward through the compound.

"What about me?" He whispered.

With the soldiers chasing after the truck, it was the perfect time to slip away. Slowly, he rose to his feet. Which way would he go? Turning to the northeast, he decided to skirt the edge of the compound. _Maybe I'll run into the guys, or Hannibal. Yeah, they must be looking for me._

He started off quickly, but his pace slowed. As his adrenalin rush faded, his fatigue and pain resurfaced. Weary and dizzy, he needed a place to rest. An abandoned school bus looked promising. The rows of seats had been removed, but that was fine. He crawled in and lay down.

He hesitantly reached up and touched his ball cap. A flare of pain rose in the back of his head. Experimentally, he tried removing the hat, but that proved uncomfortable as well. Dried blood had plastered his hair, cap and the handkerchief to the back of his skull. Removing it was going to be a painful process. He just didn't want to deal with that yet.

His stomach growled. When was the last time he had eaten? Food sounded wonderful and sleep sounded good, too good. It would be a mistake with his head injury, but maybe if he just rested for a minute. He could just shut his eyes for a minute, right?

Something crackled and he opened his eyes. The radio? He pulled it from his jacket pocket.

"_Guys, that was BEAU-TI-FUL!_" Hannibal's voice sounded soothing. "_That went off without a hitch!_"

"_Yeah, except for the crazy man being on the wrong side of the compound,_" BA added. "_I almost blew the fool up with tennis balls! That ain't right._"

Hannibal chuckled. "_Oh BA, that just added to the flare of the mission, right Murdock?_"

Murdock frowned.

"_Oh, I forgot. You can't get through on these things. Sorry Captain._"

"Come on Colonel, tell me something I don't know." He sat up, staring hopefully at the radio.

"_Ok boys, time for phase two._"


	5. Chapter 5 And into the Fire

**Chapter Five: And into the Fire.**

It was pointless arguing with someone who couldn't hear him, but Murdock was beyond reason.

"No! No phase two!" He yelled. "There will be no phase two!"

The little antenna shook as he squeezed the radio tightly with both hands. Static sounded over a garbled voice. Quickly, he loosened his grip.

"_…machine guns. I hope you all got that part, guys. Now, fill us in on the rest, Face._"

Murdock's shoulders slumped after hearing, or more accurately, not hearing Hannibal. He took a deep breath, found a bit of inner peace and waited for Face's reply.

"_Well, first of all, thanks for the rescue!_" Face sounded out of breath, or maybe that was the sound of BA's truck coming over the radio. "_And, we're in luck. Our client is being held somewhere in this compound. The info was a little shaky, but I think Ashley is in the packaging warehouse. BA and I are heading there now._"

"_Great!_" The sound of Hannibal clamping a cigar between his teeth was actually audible over the airwaves. "_I'll get the documents from Ramirez's office._"

Murdock leaned forward. "Come on guys, what about me? What does little ol' me do?"

"_Oh, and Murdock…_" Hannibal let the words hang for a moment. "_…you know what to do._"

Every sane inch of Murdock wanted to break down weeping, but his crazy side won over. It started out as a disgruntled smirk, but it grew. Soon laughter had overtaken him. By the time he stopped, his eyes were watering and he was out of breath. Then, panting for air, he rubbed his tender forehead. This was bad.

After wiping his eyes, he glanced outside.

About twenty yards away, three armed men were escorting a young woman through the compound. They hadn't noticed Murdock, although he wasn't sure how they hadn't heard his wild fit of laughter. He sat, dumbfounded, watching the four walk by.

The woman was petite and slender. She was Asian and couldn't have been any older than twenty-five. She kept her head up, her eyes constantly shifting from the compound to the guards trailing behind her. Her face remained, for the most part, serene, but micro-flashes of emotion broke though. It was in the turn of her lip, or the glint in her eyes. There was frustration and anger.

"Ashley?" Murdock whispered to himself, but no matter how hard he tried, no memories would come back to him.

She stumbled across the uneven ground in high heels. Her pristinely pressed pantsuit looked more than a trifle out of place amongst the rubble and chaos. Holding tightly to a leather satchel, she glanced at the bus.

Murdock swore he saw a look of fear cross her face before she turned away.

"That must be Ashley." He started to make his way out of the bus. "And I'm the only one who knows she's here." He grinned. "Faceman is sure gonna be mad that I get to save the girl."

* * *

><p>Sarah glanced at the guards. They were annoyances. If she hadn't worn such senselessly tall heels, then she could have easily made her way across the compound alone. She glared at the men.<p>

They spoke wildly amongst themselves. Didn't they know she understood everything they said? By now they should have come to realize her intelligence. A frown tugged at her mouth and she carefully relaxed her face. It was best not to show emotions. Leave them in the dark.

Soon she would be free of this all. She hugged the satchel closer to her body. The feel of the leather was comforting.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she glanced at a rusty school bus. Was someone there? Ramirez? She trembled. If he found her…She let the thought trail as she turned away.

One of the guards tapped her shoulder and she looked over at him.

"¿Le el conseguir cansan? ¿Debemos parar para un pedacito?"

"No," she snapped before starting forward again.

She quickened her step, ignoring the quiet laughter from the men behind her. Let them laugh. They didn't know. When Ramirez found out she was gone, when he saw what she took, he'd kill anyone who helped her. She smiled. He'd kill them even if they unknowingly aided her. These men were as good as dead.

A loud groan interrupted her thoughts. Spinning around, she found two of the guards unconscious on the ground. The third was grappling with a rather lanky man in a faded leather jacket. She stepped back as the last guard was punched in the face. His body went limp and crumbled to the ground.

For a moment, the man in the leather jacket looked as if he too was going to topple over, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. Taking a few precarious steps forward, he flashed a toothy grin at her.

"Hey Muchacha, thought I'd swoop in and give you a hand."

She stared at him. What was his game? His glossy brown eyes dolefully met her gaze.

"You're Ashley, right?" There was a desperate tone to his voice. His grin faded.

Didn't he remember her? She searched his face again, but there was no anger. How had he forgotten? But, it didn't matter. This opportunity was too good.

"Yes." She smiled coyly. "Are you going to fly me to safety?"

He blinked. "Fly? How did you…"

"You're the A-Team's pilot, right? They said you'd come to save me."

"Who? The guys?" His words seemed to slur slightly.

"Yes, the guys!" She reached up and took him by the arm. "Let me help you. Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm fine. Just a bump to the noggin, 's okay." He seemed to finally realize she was helping support him and he blushed.

"I know where the helicopter is. Do you think you can fly it?"

He nodded. "Yep, course I can."

She smiled. He was her ticket out of there. Still, it was hard to believe. After all, he should have been dead. Maybe her aim had been off, or maybe the grenade hadn't been as powerful as she had thought. The look on his face when she had pulled the pin had been utterly priceless. He'd tried to run, but the blast had taken him down. She pictured his body lying in the dirt, the back of his head was covered in blood. She should've checked to make sure he was dead. She should've put a bullet through his heart, but it all worked out for the best. In the end, after he had flown her to safety, she would do what should have been done.


	6. Chapter 6 Bunions and Bullets

**Chapter Six: Bunions and Bullets**

Murdock tried not to lean too heavily on the woman. She hadn't complained, but her slender form strained under the light weight he put on her. If they would've slowed down, he could have managed alone, but she set them at a quick pace. He desperately wanted to rest. Even a few moments to clear his head would've sufficed, but he knew she would object.

Her face had gone cold and blank. The lack of emotion sent chills up his spin. This wasn't right, but his mind was too foggy to sort out what was amiss.

"Ya know, I read somewhere that those kinds of heels are very bad for your feet." Murdock had tried to keep his nervous chatter to a minimum, but as things got worst, he couldn't help himself. "Bad for the arches, I think. Oh yeah, and they can give you bunions. Do you have bunions? It's probably because of the shoes if you do."

Murdock stumbled, nearly taking them both down. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she helped him regain his balance. As she pulled her arm back, he could feel the pistol being slowly drawn from his waistband. He had forgotten he'd had it. When had he tucked it back there? More importantly, what did she need it for?

He gave her a questioning glance as she examined the gun.

"I'd better hang on to this. You're in no condition to use it." Her fingers nimbly swept over the gun as she checked the ammo. She gave a slight frown as she saw the three rounds.

"Yeah, but…"

She didn't let him finish. Taking a firm hold of his arm, she started moving again. "The copter is just around the corner."

Static sounded. Murdock flinched at the sudden noise coming from his pocket, but realizing he still had the radio, he came to halt. She gave a little grunt as she futilely tried to drag him forward.

"Come on!" She hissed, her calmness broken by a sudden rage.

He stood, blinking at her for a moment. There was something very off about this woman. Maybe the bunions were making her cranky.

"Radio," He answered simply as he fished it out of his jacket pocket.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the object in his hand. He pretended not to notice how her body tensed up, how her small nostrils flared and her finger hovered restlessly over the pistol's trigger.

"_…Bad news._" The static had given way to Hannibal's voice. "_Ramirez's office has been ransacked. It's a mess and all the documents are gone. We need to find out who got in here and took that paperwork. Face, how's it going with Ashley?_"

There was a slight pause before Face came over the radio. "_No sign of the client yet. I've got another lead, but things are looking dicey._"

"_That's just great_." Hannibal sounded frustrated. "_Well, we've got about fifteen minutes before the Federales show up. We'd better get a move on it. Let's try not to mess this up too badly. I'd like to get back to the set of Bride of Aquamaniac in one piece, ok boys_."

"_Sure thing_," Face answered, and then the radio went quiet.

Murdock shrugged. So, the Federales were on their way? He stared at the radio a moment longer before returning it to his pocket.

"Aren't you going to tell them you found me?"

He shook his head. "Radio's broke. Can't call out." He was so tired. Should he have told her about the radio being busted? No, that might've been a mistake. He glanced over at her.

She wasn't as tense any longer, the gun was lowered to her side and her finger was no longer over the trigger. His eyes shifted to the satchel hanging from her shoulder. Could it contain the documents? He had a feeling it did, but how had she gotten them?

"We should keep moving."

Startled, he looked up and met her gaze. Seeing her delicate jaw tightly clenched, he realized that he had been staring at the satchel too long. Yes, she probably had the documents, but she wasn't going to give them up without a fight.

Alone, she started walking. He watched her for a bit before deciding to follow. Hannibal wanted the documents, and he was going to get the documents. Murdock wobbled after her.

They rounded a corner and found an open area with a Hughes OH-6 Cayuse. Murdock grinned at the copter. Even just the thought of getting up in the air made him feel better.

It took another couple of minutes before they were in the chopper. Head injuries forgotten, Murdock studied the controls. "Didn't think you'd have a Loach. This is going to be a beautiful flight." He glanced over at her. "I hope you don't get airsick."

Then, a voice sounded from the radio in his jacket.

"_Guys_," Face yelled over gunfire, "_I found our client Mr. Ashley and I'm heading to the rendezvous now_."

Murdock frowned. "Mr.?"

"_Oh, yeah_," Face continued, "_I found out that the second in command took the documents. Watch out though. I hear she's even crazier than Ramirez. I wouldn't even mess with this one. She goes by the name Sarah Chiang._"

"Sarah?" Murdock shivered as he glanced over at the co-pilot's seat.

She had the pistol raised. There was no hesitation or doubt in her eyes. She'd pull the trigger if she needed to.

"Get us out of here."

"Um, yeah…" He hated that his thoughts were still so sluggish. "Can you check that gauge there?"

She was only distracted for a moment, but Murdock put it to good use. He lunged forward grabbing at the pistol. They struggled, both desperately trying to wrench the gun free from the other's grasp. She freed one hand and struck him hard across the head. Stars flashed across his vision, and then the gun fired.


	7. Chapter 7 Cinderella

**Chapter Seven: Cinderella**

Murdock gave a yelp at the first gunshot. He wasn't hit, but the sound of the bullet tearing through the center console broke his heart. The second shot entered the instrument panel. Flying the chopper was no longer an option.

Weakened from the blow Sarah had given him to the head, Murdock knew he was on the losing end of their struggle. He was wobbling and shaking and she was…she was inhuman. Something inside her seemed to snap when the copter took damage. While the earthbound whirly-bird saddened Murdock, it had infuriated her.

"I WILL KILL YOU!" She screamed. The same phrase kept streaming from her mouth. Her eyes, wild and unblinking, were fixated solely on him. Both her hands were back on the pistol, and she was throwing every ounce of her strength into freeing the gun from his grip.

Murdock almost wanted to laugh, almost. Maybe later, when he was certain he wasn't going to die, he'd have a good chuckle over this.

She tossed her weight against him, almost knocking him off his feet. Somehow, he managed to use her attack against her and flip her into the back of the copter. She toppled end over end, legs and arms flailing. Unfortunately, the pistol went with her.

Murdock made a mad grab for the gun, but, his vision fuzzy and his head still spinning, he made a slight mistake. It may have had the same basic shape as the weapon, but it was hardly as deadly. He jumped back, high heel in hand, and made a quick decision. It was time to run for the hills.

While Sarah continued to fumble around for the pistol, Murdock tripped out of the chopper and made an unsteady escape. A flash of regret came over him as he remembered the satchel full of documents, but it was too late to go back.

Rounding the corner of a building, he let out a deep sigh. Forget the mission, he needed to concentrate on staying alive. Hannibal would be ok with that, hopefully.

"¿Dónde están sus amigos?"

He flinched at the sound of the voice. Five men stood not more than ten feet away. Four of the men held rifles pointed straight at him. The fifth man, a middle-aged fellow with a dark mustache, held no weapon.

The man with the mustache took a step forward. "Where are your buddies?" His accent was thick, but Murdock could still hear the irritation radiating in his words.

Murdock opened his mouth to speak, but as he did so, his hands nervously fidgeted with something. He glanced down. Why hadn't he dropped the high heel earlier? Had he really run all the way from the copter with it? He smiled briefly as he thought of how annoyed Sarah was going to be when she realized her shoe was missing.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Murdock jumped. The mustached man was glaring at the high heel as he moved closer.

"Tell me where she is."

"Oh, uh…yeah. You see, the clock struck twelve and I lost track of her." Murdock grinned. "I have a feeling if we can find a pumpkin then she'll be close by. Maybe some mice and a…"

And then there was pain. Murdock doubled over after the man drove a fist into his stomach. Falling to his knees, he tried to take in a breath, but his gut begged him to just sit still and forgo any sudden movements.

The man leaned down. "I will ask you again, where is she?"

Murdock raised his head, and even though he dreaded the idea of further pain, he smiled. "You must be Ramirez."

The man snarled as both his hands wrapped around Murdock's throat.

"Stop playing games with me! You know very well I am Ramirez, and I can kill you at any point. Now tell me where the girl is!"

He pulled at Ramirez's hands, but he couldn't loosen the hold. Straining for relief, Murdock let out a few strangled, breathless gasps. His vision darkened, and then Ramirez let go.

Filling his lungs with air, Murdock fell back onto his rear.

"Sarah had been right about one thing though." Ramirez seemed to be speaking more to himself than anyone else. "I should have killed the A-Team the minute I captured them. Trying to sell them off to the highest bidder had been a fool's gamble. But…" His voice trailed slightly. "…it would have fetched a high sum. The A-Team has made many enemies."

One of the guards coughed and Ramirez's gaze shifted to his men.

"I would have made a lot of money if not for you bumbling idiots." He paused, letting them squirm under his words. "You tied them up in our supply warehouse full of fireworks and tools and after thirty minutes…THIRTY MINUTES…they had built a machine that sent my compound into chaos."

The youngest looking man amongst them spoke up. "Jefe, era imposible. Nadie deben haber podido hacer eso."

"Impossible?" Ramirez seemed to consider the idea for a moment. "If it was impossible then they couldn't have done it, and yet they did!" From under his jacket, he drew a pistol.

The sight of the chrome Desert Eagle instantly made the guards start to twitch. The young man stood, eyes wide, staring at his boss. Ramirez smiled and pointed the gun at the man's head. No one made a move to interfere.

"Wait," Murdock croaked. "The girl, I'll show you where I left her."

"You," Ramirez said as he tapped the young man with the barrel of the gun, "are a lucky man."

The guards hauled Murdock to his feet. They weren't as rough as they could have been though. Since their boss seemed to be a sadistic killer, they didn't seem to have much loyalty toward him. Murdock would have to use that to his advantage, because he doubted very much they were going to find Sarah at the copter. Ramirez was about to become very unhappy.

Murdock brought a hand up to his tender neck. He really didn't like this mission.


	8. Chapter 8 Luck Be a Lady

**Chapter Eight: Luck Be a Lady**

Just as Murdock had thought, Sarah wasn't at the copter. He shivered slightly as he wondered if his luck had finally run out. Had he been lucky? Waking up with memory loss, nearly being blown up, shot at and strangled did not sound like a fortunate turn of events. Plus, all these near death experiences were exhausting.

Ramirez stepped up to the chopper, opened a cabin door and peered inside. No one spoke. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the man's back, waiting for his reaction. Fear etched onto their faces, the guards huddled behind Murdock. That couldn't be good.

Overwhelmed by the ominous feeling settling over him, Murdock drew in a breath and held it.

Inside the copter, Ramirez leaned over, reached down and picked something up. Slowly, he turned around and revealed Sarah's other shoe. Murdock exhaled.

"Well my friend," Ramirez grinned as he tossed the high heel to the ground, "you do not lie. She was here, but, too bad for you, she is gone now."

The guards were shifting nervously, passing knowing glances amongst themselves.

"¡Marco, consigue listo para volarnos de aquí!"

Ramirez's command seemed to ease the men's tension, but only slightly. Murdock frowned. They had a problem. Five men for a four person copter wasn't going to pan out. One of them, just like Murdock, was out of luck.

The plumpest guard darted forward into the helicopter. He flashed a crooked grin as he plopped into the pilot's seat, but Murdock watched his face as he started to check the controls and panels. Whatever elation the man had experienced from escaping Ramirez's wrath disappeared. Panic creased his features as he tapped at the instrument panel. Obviously, some crucial gauges were malfunctioning. Sweat pouring from his forehead, the man glanced at Ramirez. Would he say anything? For a moment, Murdock was sure he would speak up, but the large fellow clenched his jaw shut and set about nervously fiddling with the controls.

Ramirez didn't notice his pilot's anxiety though, as he had focused his attention on the four men still standing in front of him. "¡Phillip, Arnold, entra!"

Quickly, two more of the guards climbed into the copter. Their faces conveyed a mixture of relief and concern for the man they had left behind. The blades of the copter had started moving.

Murdock glanced at the young man standing beside him. He looked too young to be holding a gun. His body was lean but his face held that plumpness of childhood that only age can shed. He might have been eighteen at the most.

"Roberto," Ramirez said the name slowly as he placed his hands on the young man's shoulders. "Redímase. Estancia aquí. Mate al hombre loco y le perdonaré. Nos volveremos para usted después de que encontremos a Sarah."

The young man, Roberto, lowered his head, his eyes fixed on the dirt between them, and then he nodded. He never looked up to meet Ramirez's gaze.

Murdock shrugged. Even with a head injury, he could understand the phrase 'kill the crazy man' in almost any language. It was an unnatural talent, but very handy.

Ramirez drew his hands back and flashed a toothy grin. "Good!" He turned to Murdock and gave a wave. "It has been nice knowing you, señor."

Murdock watched the man pull himself into the copilot's seat. Ramirez was smiling and saying something to his flustered pilot. The large man gave a half-hearted grin at his boss, but if Ramirez had looked hard enough he would have noticed the apprehension in the man's face. Instead, he leaned back and yelled something to the men behind him. They hesitated, but finally, as they helicopter lifted into the sky, they aimed their rifles at the two figures still on the ground.

Maybe his luck had run out. Murdock stared up at the copter. That could have been him flying. The pain in his head began to throb again and a wave of dizziness sent him down to his knees. Gazing up into the bright grey sky apparently wasn't good for people with concussions. He grinned. Flying probably would have been a bad idea too.

Even though he couldn't see him, Murdock knew the boy was behind him. He could sense the rifle and the shot that was about to come at him. He closed his eyes and hoped it would be quick.

At least he had the steady rhythm of the helicopter to listen to. It was soothing. He let himself focus solely on that sound. If only he could have flown one last time. Then, the rhythm changed. It faltered and sputtered, the engine's tone went sickly. Murdock opened his eyes and watched the whirly-bird dance wildly through the sky. He could see the figures inside jostling about. Suddenly, it started into a downward spin and crashed somewhere within the compound. A billowing cloud of smoke rose over the buildings.

Jaw hanging open, Murdock sat back on his haunches. Was it over? He felt the barrel of a rifle tap him in the middle of his back.

"You," the boy said in broken English, "are lucky man."

The pressure of the gun lessened until it was gone, and by the time Murdock turned around, the boy was gone as well.

"Yes I am," Murdock said as he laughed to himself, "in a crazy sort of way."

He didn't have the energy to do much. Sure, he should have started to look for the guys since the Federales would be showing up at any moment, but what if the gang had already left? He let the thought fade. They would never leave him. Would they?

Behind him, the click of a pistol sounded.

He didn't even bother turning around. Frustration boiling over, he just started yelling. "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! THIS HAS GOT TO BE SOME KIND OF HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE JOKE!"

"No joke." Sarah's voice was calm now, restrained. "I saved a bullet just for you."


	9. Chapter 9 Witchy Woman

**Chapter Nine: Witchy Woman**

Murdock could hear the gentle footfalls of bare feet as she edged closer. The noise halted and a warm breath brushed across the back of his neck.

"I told you I'd kill you, and I always do exactly what I say," Sarah whispered.

Involuntarily, he snapped his eyes shut at her words. They'd been so softly spoken and yet they cut into him. She meant it. He could feel a bead of sweat slide down his temple.

Nearly silent, she walked around to face him. He flinched as a small hand caught him under the chin and lifted his face upwards. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

Her taunt, thin lips pulled upward ever so slightly. The smile was unnerving. He squirmed under her gaze. Those dark eyes, nearly dull save for the sparkle of bloodlust, scanned his face. In her right hand, she held the pistol.

The satchel hung loosely at her side as she let go of his chin and took a step back. "You've had a hard day, haven't you?"

He started to stir, trying to get to his feet.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She carefully aimed at his chest.

He considered this a moment. "Does it matter?"

She raised an eyebrow as her smile faded.

"I mean," he continued, "you're just going to kill me whether I'm sitting or standing, right? You said you'd kill me and…" He changed his tone to mimic her cold feminine voice. "_I always do exactly what I say."_

Murdock wobbled to his feet and Sarah took another step back. He steadied himself before flashing a large, toothy grin in her direction.

"Ok Muchacha, you and me have got a problem. I don't really want to die right now. You see, the big guy would miss me way too much. He doesn't like to admit that he cares, but he does. I think he'd be the saddest of all. I could just see his ugly mudsucker face right now all teary eyed and sniffling. It would be a pitiful sight! He'd drown his sorrows in tall glasses of milk and…"

"SHUT UP!"

"Can you…" He slipped into a serious voice. "…can you at least tell what I did to make you so mad before you, you know?"

"What you did?" Her smile returned. "You got in my way."

He wanted to ask her to elaborate, but something warned him to stay quiet. She was nearing the end of her game. All that was left for her to do was pull the trigger.

"If I get the chance," she continued, "I'll kill Peck as well. I knew from the moment I saw him that he wasn't here to buy guns from Ramirez, but Ramirez is a fool and he fell for it. Only an idiot wouldn't recognize a member of the A-Team, but I didn't say anything."

Murdock shifted slightly. If he could just keep her talking then maybe…maybe the guys would save him? It was a long shot.

"I knew Peck would be discovered eventually and that would give me a diversion. For nearly a year I had been pining and preening over Ramirez, working my way to the top of his operation. He's a bigger fool than I had ever imagined. A small time drug lord dipping his hands into international gun running and money laundering, he was in over his head. So, I thought I'd just take his files and see if I could do better. I'm sure I can." She paused to brush a hand over the satchel. "I've got all his shipping information and details on growers, buyers and sellers. The best part is that most of these people know me far better than they know him. I am the one who meets with most of them, after all. That is the beauty of being a translator."

Murdock opened his mouth and then snapped it back shut. He had to come up with a plan. He couldn't count on the guys showing up to save him.

"Peck was annoying. The way he grinned and carried on. Conmen irritate me, but he was useful for my escape. And then you…" She glared at Murdock. "You showed up and nearly ruined everything."

"Sorry," he muttered, his eyes focused downward at her feet.

"How many times must I try to kill you?" She licked her lips and aimed the gun at his head. "I think this will be the last."

"You know," he said with quiet thoughtfulness, "those shoes really did give you bunions."

She quickly glanced down at her feet and he sprang forward. It had been a desperate rouse, but it was the only one he could think of.

Once again, they were grappling for the gun. He had her loosely pinned to the ground with his weight. She reached out with her left had to strike, but he managed to fend off each blow.

The shot fired, and Murdock grunted as she violently shoved him away and scampered to her feet. Blood oozing from her left hand, she pulled the wounded limb in and clutched it to her chest as she circled around him.

Murdock sat on the ground, still dazed from the sound of the gunshot. Sarah halted and glared down at him. What did she want? Was she going to attack again? He was weak, but, judging from the amount of blood she'd lost, so was she. If she came at him, he was sure he could subdue her. It was then he felt the lump underneath him. Glancing down, he discovered that he was firmly seated on the satchel.

"Give me the…" She didn't even get to finish the sentence as a thunderous wave of gunfire broke out within the compound.

"The Federales are here." Murdock yelled over the chaos.

She eyed him for a moment, as if gauging whether he was telling the truth or not, but the growing gunfire finally made her draw back. After one last murderous glance, she took off running.

Murdock would've started laughing, but he'd come to the realization that he too needed to find a hasty retreat. Unfortunately, he didn't think he had the strength for another sprint through the compound.

Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out the radio. If the guys said something, anything, maybe he could figure out where to meet them. He wouldn't be quick on his feet, but if it wasn't far away, maybe he'd have a chance. Then, an unsettling thought came to him. When was the last time he'd heard anything on the radio?

He fiddled with the dial. Nothing happened. There wasn't even static. He groaned as he let the radio drop to the ground. It was dead.


	10. Chapter 10 All Good Things

**Chapter Ten: All Good Things…**

Murdock clenched his jaw. The satchel under his rear was really quite uncomfortable, but he didn't feel much like moving. He glanced over at one of Sarah's dusty, scuffed high heels. Next to it rested the pistol, but, without ammo, it was useless.

"Howdy amigos." Murdock gave a sad smile at the two items. "We're a lot alike." He paused to stare up at the darkening sky, "I mean, a shoe without a foot, a gun without bullets and a man without a clue, those things are like peas in a pod…kind of."

The sound of gunfire increased and Murdock glanced warily out over the compound. He hated pity parties, but, with the way things were going, he felt he deserved one.

"Ok fellas," he groaned as he slowly rose to his feet, "you can wait here, but I can't just sit around. I would never forgive myself if I just let it end like this. I'll send you a postcard when I get to wherever it is I'm a goin'."

Carefully, he crouched down and scooped up the satchel. If his movements were slow and smooth enough, he found that his head didn't protest as much. Still, he barely managed to get himself upright again.

Twenty steps, that's what he figured he could take before needing to rest. After that, he'd have to see how much strength he had left. It wasn't as good as one of Hannibal's plans, but it would do in a pinch.

Things were going well until about his fourth step. A wave of nausea swept over him. He shivered and fought back the urge to double over. His vision clouded slightly and then he heard it. It was unmistakable. It was magnificent! It had to be…BA's van!

Murdock blinked away the blurry vision and steeled his quivering stomach. The gang was coming. He was going to be ok. His joy only grew as the van launched itself around a corner, vaulted over a tiny crest of dirt, caught some air, landed and then came to a skidding halt beside him.

The side door slid open and Murdock flung himself inside. In an ungraceful heap, he landed in the back of the van. Before he could even think about sitting up, the van started moving.

"Man, why didn't ya meet us at the rendezvous?" BA shouted from the driver's seat. "Fool, the plan was _not_ to drive my van through the gunfire!"

Murdock blinked. He was sprawled out on his hands and knees with his derriere pointing upward. It was an undignified pose, but at least he hadn't hit his head again. The jarring motion of the vehicle was not helping his dizziness though. Dropping the satchel, he cautiously eased himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the side of the van. He would have crawled up into his normal seat, but Face was already firmly planted there.

"Cool it BA." Hannibal said after shooting a few rounds out of the back side door. "Murdock had a good reason not to meet us, lookie here." With a wide grin, he picked up the satchel and held it up for the others to see. "Now we're in business. Mr. Ashley, I'm sure you'll see this gets to the proper authorities."

Hannibal handed the satchel to a pale red-headed man in thick glasses sitting in the front passenger seat. The man had a pathetically large smile adorning his thin face.

"I still can't believe you got all this," Ashley said as he riffled through the papers. "How in the world did you find out about Ramirez?"

"Well…" Hannibal's eyes were sparkling with the jazz "we had to figure out why someone would want to take over your brother's small time tennis club. It didn't make sense. While the club was doing fairly well, it certainly wasn't making money hand over fist."

"I've got a few ideas on how to improve that, now that we're partners and all," Face added.

Hannibal slid the side door closed. "Anyhow, we figured it had something to do with that shipment of tennis balls that went missing after your brother had his _accident _and ended up in a coma."

"He's ok now though," BA said, his eyes still focused on the dirt road ahead.

Taking a cigar from his pocket, Hannibal sighed. "Yeah, I was getting to that part BA. Before your brother woke up, we started tracking down where the shipment of tennis balls had come from, and we followed it all the way back to the Mexican border."

"That's when I managed to finagle the border guards into giving out a little info on our mystery truck." Face's dazzling white grin was stretching from ear to ear. "It took some talent, but…"

"Yeah, Face did real good." Hannibal beamed. "And we learned that the border guards were taking bribes to let the truck pass through without a full search. They were under the impression the load was full of illegal fireworks. To some degree, it was. Ramirez had the foresight to pack half the truck full of fireworks and the other half had the tennis balls."

Mr. Ashley frowned. "I still don't get it."

Hannibal chuckled. "And neither did we, at first. But then Murdock noticed that the ball you had managed to swipe from the truck before the shipment disappeared didn't bounce right."

Murdock perked up at hearing his name, but none of the events sounded familiar.

"The ball," Hannibal grinned, "was full of cocaine."

Ashley's eyes grew wide. "Cocaine?"

Hannibal lit his cigar and took a puff. The sweet smell instantly filled the van. Murdock's eyelids started to feel heavy. He knew he shouldn't shut them, but the steady conversation and familiar scent of the Colonel's favorite cigar were so comforting. It all seemed to be enticing him to relax and drift off into a restful sleep.

"Yeah," Hannibal said through a cloud of smoke. "Ramirez had packed all those tennis balls full of high grade cocaine. It was an elaborate setup and, once we knew what we were looking for, Ramirez was easy to track down."

"Things hit a bit of a snag when your brother woke up," Face continued. "You see, he had found out about Ramirez and the reason he wanted the tennis club. He needed a front to ship his cocaine loaded tennis balls to, and your brother had flat out refused."

Murdock closed his eyes. This was all very interesting, but there was so much to take in, and he was so tired.

"Ramirez wouldn't have that!" BA's booming voice startled Murdock from the edge of sleep. "So he kidnapped you to make your brother sign over the club, but he didn't count on us!"

"Exactly!" A smug grin adorned Hannibal's face. "So when we raided Ramirez's compound, we freed you, blew up his warehouse and stole his files on all his dealers and sellers. It was a piece of cake!"

"Actually," Face looked astonished as he glanced at Hannibal, "You're right for once. That went almost exactly as planned."

"The crazy man even blew up the copter just like he was supposed to," BA muttered.

Murdock mouthed the words to himself. "Supposed to?"

"It was a shame, and I know it had to be hard on you, Murdock, but it was for the best." Hannibal took another puff of his cigar. "Ramirez was pretty paranoid that someone would betray him, and I'm sure the copter was rigged with a few nasty surprises for anyone who didn't know what to look for."

Murdock shrugged. It was yet another near brush with death. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost count.

"BA," Hannibal leaned forward. "How much longer until we get to the hideout?"

"About fifteen minutes. We should be able to lie low there for a while."

They kept talking, but Murdock wasn't focusing on their voices any longer. He was just trying to stay awake. He had to keep his eyes open. Face glanced over at him and smiled, Murdock gave what he hoped was a warm smile back. It must have been because Faceman casually turned away to stare out the window.

It was stupid not to speak up. He should've told them about his head, but… He wasn't sure exactly. It felt like embarrassment, or maybe guilt? Had he been the only one to flub up on this mission? Had everything really gone almost as planned? Maybe if he just rested a bit, the headache would go away. Yeah, it was probably nothing anyways. As the van sped down the road, Murdock desperately tried to believe that lie.


	11. Chapter 11 Must Come to an End

**Chapter Eleven: …Must Come to an End.**

"Murdock."

The familiar voice was barely audible over the steady rhythm of the van.

"Hmmm?" He let one eye flicker open. "What's up Faceman?"

Face frowned. His normally smooth brow wrinkled as he stared down at the pilot. Murdock opened his other eye, sat up and forced a grin. He felt a brief flash of panic and then relief. Face had to know. If anyone knew, it had to be…

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" Face stammered as he wrung his hands together. "I can tell by how quiet you've been. Awww, Murdock, I hate it when you're mad at me."

"Faceman, I'm not…"

Face gently shook his head. "No, I know you are, and I don't blame you." He sighed, letting his shoulders slump. "You were right. The shirt was more like a bribe than a gift. Buying you off wasn't my intention, not really. Well, maybe it was but…" Face flashed a dazzling smile at Murdock. "You'll forgive me, won't you?"

"Sure, I guess. I don't think I really know what…"

Face's eyes sparkled. "You're a true friend, and…maybe you'll let me have the handkerchief back?"

Murdock glanced down. Faceman had tried to bribe him with a shirt? And he wanted the handkerchief? He was having trouble comprehending what this meant, but he could feel Face watching him, waiting for an answer.

Finally, he simply muttered, "handkerchief?"

"Yeah, you know, it's a little cloth thing that people blow their noses into." Face's voice sounded anxious. It was the tone he used when a con wasn't working.

Murdock stared blankly across the van. It was getting darker and the faint blue evening light seemed to help ease his headache a little.

The handkerchief? He cringed as he recalled how the thin sheet was plastered to his bloody scalp. It would have to be removed soon. The wound needed to be cleaned, but not yet. He just needed a little more time before the full fury of the pain came back.

"Aww, Murdock!" Face whined. "I told you that I'd be nice. I just need one date, that's all."

"W-with a handkerchief?"

Hannibal, who had been quietly cleaning his rifle, let out a chuckle. "That's a good one."

Face glared at the colonel before turning his attention back to Murdock. "No! Stop fooling around. You know I'm talking about Kinsey Little. I mean, she could _really _be the one! And I know I promised not to, but how do you expect me to just walk away from that sweet little thing?"

Murdock frowned. Kinsey Little? He knew the name, but from where? Then it came to him.

"The red-headed nurse at the VA?" he gasped. "You promised not to?"

Face groaned. He'd apparently taken Murdock's last question as a statement. "I know, I know, and I won't break that promise, but maybe you could reconsider? I mean, you saw how she dropped that handkerchief right in front of me. You saw how she was so obviously trying not to notice it had fallen, and how she hurried off so I could pick it up. She wants to see me again. She wants me to return it. Please Murdock, just this one last time, can I date a nurse?"

The van slowly came to a stop.

"We're here," BA announced. "And it's about time. I was getting tired of all your jibber-jabbering."

Hannibal slid the door open, stepped out and started to stretch his legs. "Out of the van, boys," he yelled back at the others. "You can finish the conversation inside the cabin."

Mr. Ashley stumbled out of the van, sending the satchel toppling to the ground. Papers spilled out and scattered in the cool breeze. Face was immediately out, helping Ashley and Hannibal collect the wayward documents. For his part, BA watched them with a hint of irritation as he ran a hand over a bullet hole in the hood of this van.

Murdock crawled to the door and let his feet fall down to the dirt ground. With everyone distracted, he might be able to stand up without drawing suspicion. He pushed upward, swayed on his feet and grabbed the van for support. Closing his eyes for a moment, he waited until the world seemed to stop spinning before he opened them again.

Hannibal, Face and Ashley stood together, trying to cram the documents back into the satchel. It was a wadded mess of paperwork, but it looked as if they had reclaimed it all. Murdock sighed. At least no one had seen. Then he noticed BA.

The sergeant wasn't moving. He was just staring. Murdock tried giving the ugly mudsucker an innocent grin, but that didn't ease the concern on BA's face.

Hannibal gave a laugh. "I love it when…."

Just as BA took a step forward, Murdock made his move. He had planned on making his way around the back side of the van, but, instead, he instantly dropped to his knees. Pain flared in his head. With watery eyes, he looked up and saw the guys frozen, staring back at him.

"Murdock?" Face rushed forward. "Are you ok?"

Instinctively, Murdock wanted to reach up and touch his aching head, but that would only bring more pain. Even through his jumbled thoughts, he knew one thing: he didn't want any more pain. Rest is what he wanted. If everyone would just leave him alone, then he could sleep. But, there was a reason he wasn't supposed to sleep. What was it?

"s' okay." He smiled and tried to get back on his feet, but someone was holding him down. BA? He hadn't noticed the big guy make his way over.

"Fool! It is _not_ okay. Stay still and let Hannibal look you over."

Murdock tried to pull away, but Face and BA held him in place.

"I'm s-sorry…" He lowered his head so that the brim of his cap hid his face.

"Captain, it's ok." Hannibal was talking slowly, and Murdock could feel a hand settle carefully on his shoulder. "We're just going to see what's wrong, ok? Can you look up for me?"

Murdock trembled, but did as his CO asked.

"See," Hannibal said, as he studied the pilot's face. "That wasn't so bad. Now, can you tell me what happened?"

It was almost funny, Murdock thought, almost.

"I was in the VA and then I wasn't. Maybe I hit my head?"

Hannibal seemed to consider this for moment before asking, "What's the first thing you remember after you woke up, when you weren't in the VA anymore?"

Everyone was silent, waiting for Murdock's reply. His head throbbed as he concentrated on the question.

"You were talking on the radio, Colonel, but it was broken. You couldn't hear me. I think you said we all had to be in position, but I-I didn't know what that meant." Murdock swallowed hard and avoided making eye contact with Hannibal. "I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," Hannibal replied. Whatever dredges of jazz he had been clinging to were obviously gone. "It was my fault. The plan didn't work quite as well as I thought it would. Now, let's get a look at that head of yours."

Murdock's eyes locked on Hannibal as the man reached up to remove the baseball cap. It was going to hurt. He knew it was going to hurt, but it had to be done. Hadn't he been though worse before? This would be nothing. This would be a piece of cake. As soon as he thought _those_ words, he panicked.

"WAIT!" He panted, once again straining against his friends' grasp. "I ran with dynamite in my pants and then I gave it a cigarette. They heard me sing Air Supply, but I got away. I rescued a damsel, who was _not_ really a damsel, and she shot the copter!" He could hear his words slur slightly, but he had to finish. They had to at least know what he had been through. "I thought a high heeled shoe was a gun, and I was saved by nonexistent bunions."

A few moments of silence followed his outburst before anyone dared talk again.

"Wow," Face said in a low voice. "That made no sense. I really think we need to get him to a hospital."

"How can you tell?" BA asked. "Fool always sounds crazy."

"Ok, Murdock, just take it easy." Hannibal's hand settled on Murdock's hat. "Everything is going to be alright."

"But…that's…what…h-happened…."

Hannibal slowly pulled the hat up. Pain seared through the back of Murdock's skull. Blinded with the rising pressure in his head, his body started to go limp. He could just barely make out Hannibal's words before everything went black.

"Don't worry kid. We'll take care of you now."

* * *

><p>"Murdock, you really know how sorry I am, right?"<p>

"Of course, Faceman. I do." Murdock was getting a little tired of all the apologies he'd been getting. Quite frankly, he was almost looking forward to having a little quiet time to himself. After an overnight stay at a hospital, he had spent the last week with the guys in a charming little cottage Face had managed to scam. It had been nice, but, with the fellows constantly checking up on him, he was starting to want some alone time.

"Well," Face said as he pushed Murdock's wheelchair down the hall of the VA center, "I am really, really sorry."

Murdock grinned. "Yeah, Face. I know."

They were quiet for a while. Only the faint squeak of the wheelchair made any noise. There weren't many people around the VA at this hour of the night, and that's why they chose it for Murdock's return.

"Dr. Pepper? Is that you?" A petite, red-headed nurse stared wide-eyed at the two as she came around a corner. "I didn't think Mr. Murdock would be gone so long. Did you find out what he's allergic to?"

Face sighed. "I'm afraid the tests were inconclusive. So, he might have another attack and we might have to pull him away again for more tests."

"Hmmm," she smiled down at Murdock, "I hope the tests weren't too hard on you."

"Nope, they weren't too bad. I didn't even have to study!"

She glanced up at Face. "Would you like me to take him back to his room?"

"No, I'll do it."

She turned and started to walk away. Face watched her for a few strides before he started pushing Murdock down the hall again.

"Oh, Dr. Pepper!" the nurse called suddenly, both men turned to stare back at her. "I was wondering…" She frowned a little. "…if you had seen a handkerchief. It had my initials on it, and, well, it was part of a set. I just recalled that the last time I had seen it, you two had been at the front counter with me, so maybe…Have you seen it?"

After glancing down at Murdock, Face smiled. "Sorry, I haven't seen a thing."

"Oh." Her frown grew. "I had really hoped to find it. After all," She turned and started to sadly stroll away, "my boyfriend brought them all the way back from Paris."

Silence engulfed the two as they watched the nurse depart, and then a low chuckle sounded.

"Murdock?"

"Yeah," he said, biting back his laughter.

"This is stays between me and you. You won't tell the guys, right?"

Murdock giggled. "Consider it forgotten."

They continued down the hall, getting nearer to Murdock's room. Having some time to himself was going to be great. He'd catch up on his comics and TV shows, and maybe he'd play some video games, but, like clockwork, he'd start anxiously waiting. He smiled to himself. Yes, some downtime was going to do him wonders, but he was already excited. He was excited for the next mission.

_~Fin~_

* * *

><p><strong><em>I wanted to post a quick thank you to all of you who took the time to write up reviews. I didn't realize how much they would fuel me on until I had recevied a few. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!<em>**


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